Disclaimer: I don't own any of these spifferiffic characters of settings (duh!), but if JK doesn't want them, I'll have 'em!
AN: Once again, thankyou all so much for the wonderful response I received to my second chapter of Dum Dum Diddle. You guys are awesome.
~Ninny Weasley~
Dum Dum Diddle
Chapter the Third
Ron Weasley tossed and turned in his bed, once again unable to sleep. He had promised himself the previous night that he would no longer sneak out to the Astronomy Tower at night, to spy on Hermione while she was playing her violin in secret (or so she thought), but he just wanted to watch her play one more time.
After becoming so tangled in his sheets that he fell out of bed, fortunately not waking anyone, he got up. He decided that he would go to the tower again (he never could keep a promise to himself), and this time he would tell her how he felt. All thoughts of rejection and ridicule were pushed form his mind. If he didn't get this out, no matter what the consequences, he would surely go crazy.
He went to the bathroom, dressed, retrieved the invisibility cloak, and set off for the tower, convinced that he would tell Hermione how he felt about her, and… and then he didn't know what, but he had to find out.
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When Ron reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, sure enough – there she was. Hermione was standing right where Ron had expected to find her, playing softly on her violin with her eyes shut tight. He sighed inwardly as he realized that tonight was just like any of the other nights when he had come to watch her. He had often toyed with the idea of telling her how he felt about her, but he couldn't do it. Not then, and not now, either.
He stayed a few more minutes to watch her play, but the song she had been playing finished, and dejectedly, he decided to leave again.
As he turned to go, his foot caught once again on the hem of the invisibility cloak, and he was reminded of the last time he had been there. He flailed his arms in a vain attempt to regain his balance, but could feel himself falling fast. As he hit the ground, his head struck a sharp brick, jutting out from the wall's edge, and he blacked out.
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Hermione started as she heard a swish, followed by a yell, and the sound of something heavy striking something hard. She placed her violin and bow carefully on the ground as she looked towards the place where she heard the sounds, but could see nothing that could have caused them. Worried, she drew her wand and continued to look cautiously around her.
"Harry?" she said warily; "Ron?"
No answer.
"If this is some kind of a joke, it's so far from funny…" she trailed off. If it were Harry or Ron who had made the sound, they weren't likely to own up to it now. Besides, why would they be up here spying on her anyway? As far as they knew, she was in bed, asleep, in the Sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory, where she should be.
No, it wasn't Harry or Ron. So who was it? Malfoy? It was definitely possible. Voldemort, or one or more of his Death Eaters, come to kidnap her and use her to get to Harry? Probable. She wracked her brain for the most powerful spell she could use to ward off a group of highly trained dark wizards, but only succeeded in becoming extremely scared and anxious.
"Okay," she said, trying her best to sound assertive and unafraid; "Whoever you are, you'd better show yourselves before I start shooting hexes everywhere!" Still nothing. She wanted to make a run for the exit, but she was pretty sure that that was where the noises came from, so she stayed, feet rooted to the spot, turning in circles trying to see something of the person, or the thing, which had made the noises.
An icy blast of wind stung her face and eyes, and she covered them with her hands until it passed. What she saw when she removed them made her scream.
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There, lying on the ground about six feet from the exit, was a foot. No sign was there of the rest of a body. Just a foot, and a few inches of ankle and shin. More to the point, the skin on the ankle and shin was pale, and lightly smattered with orange freckles, and the foot was wearing very large, violent orange Chudley Cannons sneakers. Hermione screamed again, at the realization that this disembodied foot belonged to none other than Ron Weasley, and then again, louder and higher pitched, at the thought of what might have been done to him in order for his foot to be out here at the top of the Astronomy Tower without the rest of him.
A strained, animalistic sound escaped her as her small frame contorted and folded, wracked with sobs, to the floor. No logical, ordered, Hermioneish thoughts were running through her mind at this moment. Death Eaters had captured Ron - her Ron - and she didn't know where he was now, or even whether he was dead or alive. She didn't know if he was alive or not when they had somehow removed part of his leg and foot.
Even if he was still alive, chances are they would kill him after they had gotten the information they wanted from him. No, he would never betray Harry. They would kill him because he wouldn't talk.
What was the last thing she had said to him? That she didn't want to stay with him; that he wasn't worth her time. He would never know how she truly felt about him, and all because she was too childish and stubborn to just tell him, instead of causing them both grief by entering into stupid arguments about nothing.
She knew that he didn't mean what he had said to her the night before, and she was sure he knew she hadn't meant what she had said either, but now she would never know.
She curled harder into herself as she cried. Everything inside of her was twisted into agonising knots of grief and despair.
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AN: Sorry, short chapter, but I had to leave it there. The next chapter is the end, and I will have it posted very soon (but don't stop the reviews, you guys are excellent!). Until then, thanks for reading!
~Ninny Weasley~